


Tiny Tim's Wish

by YouKnowTilly



Series: Scrooge [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Christmas Carol, Cancer, Christmas, Illnesses, M/M, Scrooge - Freeform, Tiny Tim - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouKnowTilly/pseuds/YouKnowTilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's one way Harry gets what he wants. He wishes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiny Tim's Wish

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during/right before Old Scrooge.

> "And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs Cratchit, when she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his heart's content.
> 
> "As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see." 

—    From Stave III, The Second of the Three Spirits, _A Christmas Carol_ by Charles Dickens

 

He liked to wear black. I remember his preferences better than I remember my own; they matter more.

He keeps a suspicious glance in his back pocket, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice. That's one thing that I won't forget _\--_ how he plays with emotions like a master pianist works the black and white keys.

He's a master.

When I think of that man, I imagine what others must think of him. It gives me a rush to wonder that-- how do they see him? I know myself to be very accepting, and I want to know if people who see him often can do the same. Surely they must be used to him now, they must be.

I accept him.

I'm incapable of picturing my friend in a business suit. I just can't figure out what he does. Does he work? Is he rich? No, he wouldn't be here if he is rich. The only patients here are the ones that have no money, no _one_ at all.

He has nobody.

Is that why he acts the way he does? Or, does he have no one _because_ he's not very kind at first glance? I wonder if he cares either way? I certainly don't, beyond my wish to just understand him.

He is very stiff, always is. There's no outward reason for it, he just is. He sticks to rules like the punishment is death, even for the most insignificant of details. It's downright maddening, I say. He'll not let me in to talk once visiting hours have passed. It's bloody infuriating, it is.

He is strict.

Rules aren't to be broken, but for some reason, he's allowed to be as nasty as he pleases, never mind a person's feelings. Tried everything to get me out of that room, he did, the very first time I met him. Tried his very hardest, I'm sure, but he didn't manage to scare me off. I wonder if he knows how the hospital staff hold a grudge against me for talking to him. They all seemed to like me a lot more before he came. I know they avoid me now; they visit me only half as much as they used to do, since I've taken up with him.

I don't give in easily.

But if I can have him, it's really no problem. I can live without their company, but _his_ … his is far more enjoyable. He's more engaging than other people, no doubt about that, and I want that. I want him as long as I can have him, they can all go hang. I want him… but can he stand me?

Could he stand the looks? Could he want someone like me? They way they all stare, when something goes strange, you'd think I was a circus attraction! Never mind the ever-subtle cap upon my head, oh, the looks I get from that alone. I'm certifiably freakish, and I've got the brand of cancer to persuade me even more. So, never mind his hostile glances, his sarcasm, his blunt statements. I can give a little.

I am the odd one.

No, there isn't a chance, there just isn't one. I've got to get over this and start focusing on what I need from this little life I have. I need a spark, something to keep me going from here on out.

I need a spark.

The walls are getting smaller in this place, it seems. There aren't enough breezes from open windows reaching my face, blowing my hair. I need some freedom, and I think he would give me that if I asked it of him. He seems like the type to be completely devoted to what he likes, and if he liked me….

He would take care of me.

I believe that he can protect me from anything. I don't think that he would leave me unless I request it of him, and I can't see myself doing that, ever. So what do I do? How do get him back? Is it possible that my wishing will work for this? It seems like an awfully long shot. But if I try, maybe….

How long do I have to wait? Will he be here soon, today, tomorrow, next week? Will he be as I remember him? No, I don't think he's the type to change drastically in only a little time. How long has it been since his first visit?

I know he is coming, and I can taste my anticipation for a fresh look at his face. Every new look at his face reminds me of how much I am attracted to the man. There is no feeling like it, the great leap of my heart when I get to see him again.

I want to see that stern look of his.

I wonder what they do now. I wonder how they spend their days. Is Dudley nicer than he used to be, or is he just another bully? I bet he boxes. I bet my cap that he is still beating up children without getting any trouble for it. Oh, he is definitely a boxer. It isn't entirely his own fault.

I wonder if they think I'm dead yet. They probably don't care, but they must wonder about it sometimes. Maybe one of them's got cancer too. Maybe they've all been killed in a car crash on the way to Majorca. Maybe Dudley's been incarcerated for petty crime, heck, serious crime. I wonder if that crazy old Mrs. Figg is still walking around in her bathrobe and feeding her cats. Does _she_ think of me? No, who am I fooling?

They don't wonder about me.

I want to go with him. I want him to take me out of here and keep me with him for as long as I've got left. Even the thought of going to some waste dump to live is more fulfilling with him there to take care of me. Yes, yes, I want away from here and to be with that abrasive man.

I want to explore some place special.

How much time do I have to wait for him? There isn't anything fun to do around here that I haven't done ten times or more. There are only so many crossword puzzles that I can do before the monotony kills me before the cancer does. Oh wait, yes, there's the emergency bell. Finally.

He's a master.

I accept him.

He has nobody.

He is strict.

I don't give in easily.

I am the odd one.

I need a spark.

He would take care of me.

I want to see that stern look of his.

They don't wonder about me.

I want to explore some place special.

With my sad-eyed looks, I can convince the woman at the front desk to give me the room number of the grumpy man. Yes, this day was not a waste, and I know that _that_ man will make my year so much brighter, and maybe there's a small chance he'll want someone like me… one who _wishes_. Then again, maybe it's just an opportunity, my one ticket out of here.

Either way, he's a better person than Draco ever was.


End file.
